Page:Eclogues of Virgil (1908).djvu/46

 As that but strengthens our delayed desire

See too, the mere is calm and still, and now

The murmurs of the breeze have died away.

But still before us lies our journey's half,

For we have nearly reached Bianor's tomb.

Here may we sing, oh Mœris—here put down

Thy kids, for even so we'll reach the town:

Or if we fear lest night should gather rain

Let us go singing to beguile our way.

See, I will take thy burden on my back

That we may still with song enliven toil!

Nay, cease to urge me—rather let us mind

That which concerns us now. When he shall come

We may the better sing Menalcas' songs.